Trainspotting

The baggage we arrived with roots us

we try to walk away, leave it behind

yet our wrists are handcuffed to the handles and

the handles are made of thick solid steel

the luggage weighs us down to the spot.

 

People on the platform hurry by and never seem to notice

at least they never stop to ask why we’re standing here

not moving

they’re too busy with their own concerns

they push past us like we’re invisible, insignificant.

 

We watch the trains come and go, while over the speakers

we hear destinations listed, platform numbers announced

we watch the clock change at an alarming rate

day turns to night and the platform is a ghost town

still, we stand here hunched over our baggage.

 

Seasons change and still we’re stood in the self-same position

weather beaten, frozen in winter, blue from the cold

thawing out in spring, sunburnt in summer

collecting the shit of passing birds on our shoulders

like statues of long dead heroes

the only constant here is us.

 

We’re waiting here all this time for the keys to the handcuffs

to set down our burden once and for all

to wander free of this open prison of guilt, regret and worry

but our keys are in the suitcases we hold

Locked under a combination code that we can’t crack.

 

We can’t remember how we made it to the platform in the first place

the luggage is too big too heavy to shift on our own

did somebody help us?

can’t recall-

they must have grown tired of carrying our dead-weight,

if they left us here.

 

Why leave us on a platform?

with so many destinations to choose

so many journeys we can’t make

to watch other people, get on and off with ease

watching trains arrive and trains leave.

 

We never consider the content of the baggage

grows heavier, the more we put it out of our mind

tears well up in our eyes, we ache from the burden of all this stillness

a child passing on the platform, loses hold of a balloon on a string

all we can do is watch it drift away, weightlessly.